VIOLET
The first thing I noticed when I walked into Dawn’s house was the peeling and dated wallpaper of her living room, next was the musty smell of books coming from the book shelf that stood right next to the entrance. The living room wasn’t very big, but that made it cosy. A three-seater couch with faded floral print stood diagonally from the front door, across from a small TV on top of an antique wooden stand. The carpet floor seemed to match the couches. The feint noise of a saxophone and piano could be heard deeper inside the house.
As I walked further the smells drastically changed from books to flowers to the smell of home-cooked pastry.
“I hope you eat pie, cause my grandma makes a mean chicken pie” Dawn said excitedly to me, grabbing my hand and tugged me through a small arch
